


closet space

by aPseudonym



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dom Rick undertones, M/M, Sub Negan undertones, not really rick's just bossy, what's fiction if you can't write 'trapped in a closet'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aPseudonym/pseuds/aPseudonym
Summary: After going on a botched supply run, Rick finds himself in stuck in a tight spot with Negan.





	closet space

**Author's Note:**

> There's no timeline for this one, so it really can take place anywhere in the series

Out of all the runs Negan has been on in the past month, this one is the one that’s gonna bite him in the ass. 

The words _poorly planned_ keep coming to mind, but the run had really been okay until they reached the warehouse and found it full of walkers instead of supplies. Which is great. Fantastic, even. It would’ve been nicer to know that when they’d walked in the front door, instead of finding them all hiding out on the second floor. 

_A couple_ turned into _a bunch,_ which somehow turned into _holy jesus fuck me Rick we gotta go._

Because there wasn’t just a bunch, there was a lot. 

A whole metric fuckton, to be exact. 

He’d lost count when they started busting down the doors, and instead did the manly thing, which involved a whole lot of turning the fuck around and running for his life. Rick was right beside him, thank god, which saved his ego from getting crushed. A little squished, maybe, but still mostly intact. 

In front of them, the corridor turns into a rickety wooden staircase. Rick races up it without a second thought, even though the thing looks like it’s barely holding together. Still, he doesn’t want to lose Rick just yet, so he follows with just a _bit_ more reluctance, and almost catches up before his boot goes straight through one of the steps and he crashes down hard, banging his chin on one of the steps so hard he could swear he feels his eyeballs jiggle and nearly loses his grip on Lucille. A slick hand closes around his ankle, and his mind skips like it’s caught in the groove of a bad record until Rick grasps his shoulder, instantly pulling him up with inhuman strength and kicking the walker square in the face. Its head snaps back with a sick sound, and it tumbles back down the stairs into the crowd below. 

Rick doesn’t wait for it to get back up, grabbing Negan’s hand and dragging him through the door at the top of the stairs. The only thing in the room is a metal bed frame, but it doesn’t budge when Rick tries to drag it front of the door, biting back a curse when he sees it’s bolted to the floor. Negan braces his back against the door and watches Rick pace the floor for a minute before ripping off his belt and securing the door handle to the bed in a piss poor attempt at a lock.

Warmth trickles down Negan’s leg, and for a hot second he's embarrassed as hell, bewildered as fuck and half convinced he’d just pissed himself, but when he glances down at his leg he just sees a long rip in one pant leg, blood tracking down his leg where he’d ripped it out of the stair. And yeah, okay, it probably says something weird about his psychosis when he breathes a quick sigh of relief instead of worry, but at the moment he’s got bigger problems. 

The belt-lock-thing Rick threw together catches his attention again, and it doesn’t look like it’d keep out a goddamn grandpa lugging around an oxygen tank. He tells Rick as much, but all he gets is a glare and Rick is turning and hauling ass again. 

Sunlight streams in from above, a section of ruined roof cutting a bright circle into the floor. Some of the boards had rotted away, but the remaining planks look stable enough. 

Though not stable enough for two grown men, apparently. A portion of the floor gives way when Rick sprints across it, and while there’s still a reasonable four planks remaining, Negan skids to a stop on the other side. It’s too far for him to jump, and while he’s sure there’s a decent chance for him to skip across, he hesitates, spots another corridor to his right out of the corner of his eye. 

The door creaks dangerously behind him. He’s halfway amazed the belt has held on for this long. 

“Negan!” Rick shouts at him, looking more frustrated than worried. “What are you waiting for? It’s not that far -- jump, alright?”

Through the gaps -- chasms, really -- in the floor he can see they really are a good couple floors up. He’s no expert, but he can fucking guess that a fall from that height would be enough to splatter anybody’s skull. Especially if it’s already rotting from the inside out. 

“Gettin’ real tired of playing hide and seek with these dead fuckers.” Negan grunts, and Ricks exasperated face changes to an odd combination of horror and confusion when Negan swings Lucille in front of him, gripping the handle and praying to whatever entity is listening that she doesn’t break from this. 

“Don’t --” Rick starts, but he raises Lucille high and brings her down hard, once, twice, and third time’s the charm because the boards splinter like fucking _toothpicks,_ clattering to the floor below. Rick gapes at him from across the room, and behind him Negan hears the belt snap with a noise like a fucking shotgun, and he darts into the hallway before they can catch sight of him. Rick shouts again, a fierce _come on!_ aimed at the walkers. This time it’s accompanied by a clanging noise that sounds an awful lot like Rick’s hatchet on metal -- and then something like a thirty watermelons falling off a balcony. 

In retrospect, it hadn’t been his greatest plan, but it at least bought them bought some time. 

“Rick! Negan hollers,

Pulls Negan into the first room he sees. He slams the door shut, and the room turns pitch black. Negan jostles up against him in the dark, and Rick belatedly realizes the “room” is little more than a closet. It’s too late to leave -- Rick can hear the walkers passing right next to them, the faint light bleeding in from under the door flickering as their feet shamble by. 

Negan bumps into him again, awkwardly boxed into the corner of the room. The movement pushes Rick against the wall, and he shoves back, his sleeve catching on the zipper of Negan’s jacket. There’s a muffled thump as Negan’s head hits the wall, and he grunts in pain, elbowing Rick square in the sternum. 

“Stop it!” Rick hisses. “Just stand still!” 

“I’m fucking trying!” Negan whisper-shouts right back at him. “Goddamn, we all can’t be as petite as you -- shit, watch the knee!” 

He’d been shuffling his feet between Negan’s -- he figures if they alternate feet, it’ll give them a tiny bit more room -- but Negan jumps a mile high the contact.

“You just kneed me in the dick!” Negan snaps, indignant, but his chest jumps under Ricks hands and Rick can hear the laughter in his voice. “That’s some precious fucking cargo that you’re so carelessly knocking around, Jesus, have some respect!” 

“Well, move back!” Rick says. Whatever patience he had left is draining out like sand through a sieve, and he figures he’s got about fifteen minutes before he’s desperate enough to open the door, walkers or not. 

“Move back where?” Negan retorts. “What, like there’s an convenient extra ten feet behind me I’m just not telling you about? We’re not gonna find fucking Narnia back here, Grimes, so believe me when I say there’s solid wall back here.”

His voice is getting dangerously loud, and for a minute the walkers seem to get louder too, milling around the door, scratching to be let in.

“God, shut up!” Rick pleads, barely keeping his voice down. “You can’t keep your mouth shut to save your life, can you?” 

Negan shakes with silent laughter at that, his teeth gleaming in the dark. “Tell you the truth, I never really tried.”

“Try harder.” Rick barks. 

It isn’t hard to tell -- even in the near pitch black -- that Negan is absolutely fucking delighted with this side of Rick. Intentional or not, he crowds just a little closer. 

His voice isn’t isn’t quiet, but it’s close enough, and when he leans in it takes on more of a conspiratorial whisper. 

“Damn, Ricky, If I knew a horde of the undead was all it took to get cozy with you, we could’ve gotten into this closet a lot sooner.”

“Shut up.” Rick says again. It’s less heated this time, and Negan catches on instantly. His teeth flash in the dark when he grins.

He’s close, uncomfortably close, and Rick reacts on pure annoyance and rusty cop instinct when Negan tries to push him back, grabbing the lapels of Negan’s jacket and slamming him to the wall. Negan’s back hits the wall a little harder than strictly necessary, but Rick doesn’t wait for him retaliate, kicking Negan’s feet apart and shoving his leg in between, pinning him to the wall with his forearm braced across Negan’s chest. 

“Well, shit, officer,” Negan breathes. “If you’d told me it was gonna be like _that,_ I’d’ve --” 

Somewhere inside, Rick finds the breaking point. It’s the one specifically reserved for Negan’s voice, a tight knot of resentment that’s compressed like a red rubber ball stuck in his chest, and somewhere along the line it’d snapped, and he loses his cool completely and slaps a hand against Negan’s mouth. Negan goes completely still, and through the dim light seeping into the little room Rick can see the disbelieving look on his face. They stay like that for a good minute before Negan shifts, squirming uncomfortably under Rick’s hands.

Rick presses closer, and Negan’s breaths go shallow under his palm. Suddenly, Rick sees the absurdity of the situation them in stark clarity -- him, with a handful of Negan’s jacket in one hand and the other gripping his face, a knee between Negan’s thighs. They’re pressed almost chest to chest, Negan as tense as a couple of violin strings. 

Well, fuck. 

Rick isn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten into this situation -- or how he’s gonna get out of it -- but he gives Negan’s face a little shake, forcing him to look Rick in the eyes. 

“Are you gonna be quiet?” Rick whispers.

Negan stares at him like he’d just sprouted two extra heads. His eyebrows are halfway up his forehead, but Rick has him pinned to the wall, and there’s no mistaking the shiver making its way up Negan’s spine. If he squints, Rick can even make out the blush working its way up his face. It’s barely detectable in the weak light of the closet, but even if he couldn’t see it, the feel of Negan’s face heating up under Rick’s his hand is a dead giveaway. Negan huffs out a laugh in response to his question, breath warming Rick s palm, and gives a tiny nod in response. Gently, Rick relaxes his grip across Negan’s mouth, and doesn’t miss the way Negan’s throat bobs when his fingers trail across his jaw.

“Not the most romantic place to proposition me,” Negan whispers immediately, seconds after Rick’s fingers are gone. “Glad to see you’re taking advantage of the whole ‘any place, any time’ offer, though.” 

“Fuck you.” Rick growls automatically. Negan’s eyes twinkle in the dark, and then he’s pushing forward and catching hold of Rick’s jacket almost delicately. 

“Isn’t that kinda up to you, cowboy?” 

Rick smiles sweetly at him in the dark, and fuck, that shouldn’t do things to his stomach, but here it is, doing flips--

“Only if you keep quiet.” 

“Only if you make me.” 

They’re pressed together tight in the closet and Rick isn’t helping much. He’s slowly leaning in, putting pressure on the leg between Negan’s thighs. 

“Gladly.” Rick says huskily. That’s all the warning Negan gets before Rick is reaching up to tangle his fingers in Negan’s hair and pulling him down for a kiss. Rick’s lips are chapped to hell, his mouth tastes vaguely of tap water, and Negan can’t get enough. He kisses back blindly, like his life is fucking dependent on Rick’s mouth on his, and for a moment it feels like Rick’s lips and taste and mouth is the cure they’d all been searching for all these past years. 

And yeah, alright, if he was begin totally honest with himself, he was being just a little bit over dramatic, but if he was being honest, Negan’d probably wouldn’t admit that he’d never really expected anything from Rick. Not that he’d gotten anywhere from being honest. 

Clearly, Rick isn’t thinking about personal inner questions at this time, because from the moment his mouth had connected with Negan’s, he hadn’t faltered for a second. Hands in his hair, his jacket, knee pressing _right there_ \-- god, if Negan had known it’d be this fucking good before anything had really even gotten started, well, he would’ve spent less time acting like some dickless jackass and more time getting Rick into this fucking closet.

Rick’s hands slide from his hair to his chest, then back up again to cup his face. His long fingers idly stroke Negan’s cheekbones, and for a second it’s downright-by-god _intimate,_ but Rick ruins the effect a minute later by pulling Negan’s hips forward by his belt loops to slot their hips together. 

Not that Negan minds, really. It’s sort of a win win situation. 

It surprises a groan out of him when Rick grinds down, his fingers constantly tugging at Negan’s jacket. It slides off his shoulders and he tosses it blindly to the ground, barely hearing it hit the floor. Negan finds Rick’s hips, fits his thumbs into those perfect grooves, before grabbing Rick tight and flipping them around to press him against the wall. He holds Rick there and kisses up his neck, smothering a laugh when Rick squirms. Negan manages to get the button open on Rick’s jeans and a hand up his shirt, but that’s as far as he gets before Rick is pushing off the wall and shoving him back until he hits the far wall. 

And that’s how they stay, Rick alternating between grinding down on his thigh and kissing him senseless, and it doesn’t do a goddamn thing to hide just how turned on he is from Rick pinning him to the wall. Rick knows it, too, the smug bastard, and takes full advantage. His feet knock against Lucille lying on the floor, sending her rolling back a couple feet, and it’s a testament to exactly how far gone Negan is by this point that he couldn’t give less of a shit about where she ended up. 

That’s how he comes, too, and he buries his face in Rick’s neck and bites weakly at his collarbone, but Rick fists a hand in his hair and pulls him back to pin him back against the wall. Embarrassing? Maybe. Worth it? God, for a split second Negan thinks he’d feed his dick to a walker for another chance to get locked inside a closet with Rick again. 

Rick leans against him, panting slightly. The shuffle of feet outside the closet has gone quiet, but they stay like that until Rick pushes off and dusts himself off matter-of-factly, and then, in what Negan imagines is some kind of cocky euphoria driven idiocy, reaches up and pats Negan’s cheek twice. 

“Come on,” Rick says. “Coast’s clear.”

He leans down, picks up Negan’s jacket and tosses at him. 

The whole nonchalant act would be more convincing if that goddamned accent wasn’t coming out like honey, Negan thinks, but the comment dies in his mouth when Rick just smiles at him in the semidarkness before cracking open the door to check for strays. 

Instead he opts for pulling on his jacket, picking up Lucille and making a half hearted attempt to fix whatever Rick had done to his hair, and decidedly not watching the curve of Rick’s ass as he slides out the doorway. 

“So,” Negan says. “What a ride. You wanna set up a date for next week, or what?”

“Don’t push it.” Rick grumbles. 

“Yeah? I don’t remember being the pushy one, Grimes.” Negan says brightly, and watches Rick flush. He’s smiling, though, a tiny one pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“Funny, I don’t remember you minding.” 

Negan elbows him in return. It’s a little weird, he thinks, this whole chummy buddy thing they’ve suddenly got going on, but he supposes post-fuck orgasm high will do it to you. 

“Shame there’s nothing here.” Rick says, and it takes Negan a minute to realize he’s talking about the run they’re allegedly on. 

“Shame.” Negan agrees cheerfully. “Guess we’ll just have to plan out another one.”


End file.
